No doubt the memoirs of this Ukrainian field medic are also a hoax.
:rolleyes:

Nikolai Obryn'ba


http://www.iremember.ru/infantry/obrynba/Obrynba.jpg

I thrice hate those
who, by inflicting this war,
make me kill.





Nikolai Obryn'ba, 1943.
In square helmets, with their sleeves rolled up, with sub-machine guns in their hands, Germans walk in a line from the village, firing periodically, and here and there our soldiers climb out of their hiding places. Leshka (Lesha, Leshka are short forms of the name Alexei - trans.) falls on top of me:

"They're really close!"

We hide our rifles under the straw, and then we can already hear above us:

"Rus! Los, los!"

Germans laugh and send us to a group of our soldiers, standing at a distance with two guards.

We stood in front of a village house, into which groups three-four men were brought, then, after they had been let out, a new party of POW's was taken inside. They were searched inside the house, if anyone had weapons and to see what papers each had.

I entered the house. Fresh yellow straw was lying on the floor, one of the windows was covered with a blanket, there were about five Germans in the room, among them a young junior lieutenant. They made us take off our knapsacks, gas masks, and put them on the table, then started combing through them thoroughly. One of the soldiers found a small piece of salo (salted pork fat - trans.) in my sack, all covered with crumbs, but he took it away, as well as a piece of sugar left over from my savings for a rainy day.

Looking through my medic's bag, Germans didn't take anything, but, finding a jar of honey with a label from some medicine, spun it in their hands for a long time, smelled it, but then decided it was also some medicine and threw it back inside the bag. One German was already taking a belt with Caucasian brass off my trousers, a gift from my brother-in-law, and was trying it on himself, saying: "Souvenir, souvenir, gut..." I realized that they were taking anything they liked from us, and this pettiness amazed me: how could a soldier take away a piece of sugar, a chunk of salo, a clean handkerchief from another soldier?

And then a red-haired freckled feldwebel pulled out the album with my drawings of the military life from the gas mask bag, saying "kunstmaler, kunstmaler", and started looking through it. Everybody put aside our knapsacks and also started looking, pointing fingers, laughing merrily. The lieutenant took away the album, looked it over, and asked from his questionnaire:

"Where from?"

I replied:

"Moskau, kunstmaler Akademie."

Then an idea struck him. Opening the album on a blank page, he stuck his finger there, then pointed at himself, and kept saying:

"Zeichnen, zeichnen portrait."

I took out a pencil and started sketching his portrait. The Germans and our prisoners froze with tension, started watching. In five minutes everyone recognized the lieutenant and started talking: "Gut! Prima!.." I tore out the page with the sketch and gave it to the lieutenant. He examined it thoughtfully, put it in his pocket.

...The fourteenth day of captivity. Holm-Zhirkovskiy. After a ten day stay behind the barbed wire where they were accumulating prisoners from the 350 thousand that had been encircled by the Germans at Viazma in October of '41, they started leading us west along a highway. During these ten days they gave us neither water nor food, we were sitting under the open sky. First snow fell in the beginning of October that year, it was a cold, dank weather. Here, for the first time we saw how healthy men died of hunger.

We are walking on the Warsaw highway for the fourth day toward Smolensk, with stops in specially furnished pens, enclosed by barbed wire and guard towers with machine gunners, who illuminate us with flares through the entire night. Next to us stretches a column of wounded prisoners -- in regular carts, two-wheeled carts, and walking. The tail of the column, spreading from hillock to hillock, disappears into the horizon. In places of our stops and along our entire route thousands of those dying from hunger and cold remain. Those still alive are finished off by soldiers with SMG's, a guard kicks a fallen prisoner and, if he can't get up in time, fires his gun. I watched with horror how they reduced healthy people to a state of complete helplessness and death. Every time before we set out guards with truncheons formed up on two sides, then a commanded sounded:

http://www.iremember.ru/infantry/obrynba/ris4.jpg


On the road. October 1941
Drawing on the reverse side of a German poster. Prisoners skin a
horse's body.


"Everybody run!"

The crowd ran, and at the same time blows rained on us.

A run of one-two kilometers, and then another command:

"Stop!"

Breathless, hot, sweat covered, we stopped, and they would keep us like that in the cold, penetrating wind for an hour, under rain and snow. These exercises were repeated several times, as a result only the hardiest men set out on the march. Many of our comrades remained lying, single dry shots rang out -- they were finishing off those who couldn't get up.

Sometimes they herded us to the sides of the road, this was done with the purpose of clearing mines; anti-personnel mines exploded, but our weight was not enough for anti-tank mines, and when they would drive German vehicles through a path thus cleared, they often blew up.

Our column stopped because a German car had just exploded, I took out my notepad and started making sketches. Suddenly a cavalryman rode up to me and raised his whip, but fortunately a colonel riding in an open car called him back. He called me to himself, asked what I was doing. I said I was an artist, drawing. He looked at the sketches and said:

"Not allowed. You cannot draw dead German soldiers."

I dived into a crowd of prisoners walking through the mined roadside, they wouldn't search for me there.

...Melting snow and pale sunset, tall embankment, black silhouettes of people building a bridge can be seen on it, the bridge takes shape with its supports resembling the skeleton of a huge fish. We arrived to Yartsevo, the column of prisoners pulls into the area enclosed by barbed wire, on the territory of a former brick factory. It's divided into compartments with guard towers on thin posts, a machine gunner on every one -- the towers look like spiders.

I carried the bag with bandages, cotton, manganese on my shoulder through the entire march. My two comrades, Sasha (Sasha, Sashka are short forms of the name Alexander - trans.) Lapshin and Alexei Avgustovich, and I, students of the Moscow Art Institute, were medics. An idea came to us to be assigned to a hospital for wounded prisoners. We left the column and explained our request to a guard, he called a polizei and sent him to get a doctor. We stood and waited, a stream of exhausted people was filing past us, they were walking trying to keep their legs from spreading apart. Finally the doctor, also a POW, came. In response to our offer he said that he had more doctors than was necessary, much less medics. But suddenly, as if remembering something, he offered us the barrack for the seriously wounded. We agreed gladly.

The polizei led us through several zones enclosed by barbed wire to a wood shed. It had already become dark outside. A large man opened the door for us, he was an orderly there. After letting us inside, he immediately shut the door. We couldn't see anything in the dark, but the stench of rotting flesh struck us. We pressed ourselves to the wooden wall, its holes let in fresh air and pale light. The orderly was looking at us with unconcealed hostility, but I couldn't understand his displeasure. Finally he said:

"There is nowhere to sleep. Doctors don't come here. All these wounded are beyond hope."

Shaken by his cruel bluntness, he didn't even lower his voice, we remained silent.

"They are doomed anyway," he began anew. "What are you going to do here anyway?"

Then I declared decisively:

"We'll do anything to ease these people's suffering and, in general, anything in our power. We'll spend the night here and get to work tomorrow."

The bunks were three-tiered. A passage seventy or eighty centimetres wide stretched through the entire length of the shed. People lied packed, pressing closely to each other, trying to keep warm. Somebody touched my sleeve, I heard a moan:

"Doctor, doctor, save me, I want to live, I have a house with a garden, and children, three of them, doctor, cut off my arm, it burns, only to live..."

A lump appeared in my throat, but, getting a hold on myself, I replied as firmly as I could:

"I'll examine everyone tomorrow and help you. It's too dark now."

I didn't have enough courage to admit I wasn't a doctor, so I wouldn't disappoint these doomed people, wouldn't take away their hope. My comrades stood without saying a word, torn by pity and the feeling of helplessness in front of this suffering.

The "orderly" climbed to his bunk in a different compartment of the barrack, and we got down under the bunks into some hole, barely fitting in the small hollow, and somehow lied down.

http://www.iremember.ru/infantry/obrynba/ris3.jpg



On the march. October 1941. The ditch. April 1942.
On a march prisoners would run to horse corpses, tear off pieces of
frozen meat. Guards would shoot. To the right, a ditch with the
corpses of POW's in the Borvukha-1 capm. The ditches were long, up to
three thousand corpses would be thrown into each one, then a new one
would be dug. The drawing was made on the reverse side of a German
poster. For tearing of a poster -- execution by a firing squad; for its
"violation" -- hanging.


It was stuffy, but the smells lost their sharpness, exhaustion was taking its toll. I closed my eyes and immediately the wet slippery road started flashing before my eyes, and corpses, corpses, corpses... We lied motionless in the hole among the suffering, delirious, dying, and despite the horror, it even started to seem cozy, we warmed up, and gradually we started to doze off. Suddenly a warm fluid started pouring from above, my leg became wet immediately. At first I didn't understand what it was, but then Sashka said:

"I'm all wet, the wounded are urinating on us."

The grey, dank morning came. By the time we got out of our shelter everybody already knew that doctors had come. Germans didn't give any water to the wounded, they only got a cup of tea or coffee -- slop of brown colour -- in the mornings. But I needed boiled water to work.

http://www.iremember.ru/infantry/obrynba/RIS1.jpg

A work detail. 1942

To get water I had to steal my way to the camp kitchen. It was located in a large shed, the fires were stoked by putting the firewood right under the suspended pots, about twenty of them. They brought corpses of horses here, collected alongside roads, chopped them up and threw the huge chunks into the pots full of water, then they took out the meat and cut it into small pieces. I was struck by the fact that they brought horses in two-wheeled carts pulled by people. Everything around was covered with smoke and soot, dense grey smoke with a pink tint, permeated with sparks, rose over the suspended pots. They were licked by red tongues of flame on the bottom, dark sallow figures with the flaps of their caps covering their ears were skinning the suspended horse carcasses. A gigantic shadow of somebody's figure, swaying fantastically in the clouds of smoke and steam, rose and refracted, disappeared under the roof of the huge shed. All this looked like Dante's description of Hell; the scariest thing of all was that I didn't hear any sounds of voices, it was as if everyone was mute.

I found a bottle of boiled water with difficulty and we got to work. The majority of the wounded had only had their first dressing made on the battlefield. A bandaged wound would be wrapped with puttees on top. When I took a bandage off, I became nauseous from the smell. Sasha and Alexei were immediately put out of commission, I had to lay them down in the corridor near the wall. The dressings that I gave to the wounded came out nicely, I cleaned the wound with manganese and bandaged it, the look of a fresh bandage gave the wounded a feeling of hope of getting well. When I found my countryman (he spoke with Ukrainian accent - trans.) "with a garden", he was already dead, apparently, he had had gangrene.

Only the seriously wounded were collected here, I even had to perform a surgery -- cut off the remains of a crushed arm with a knife. My patient lost consciousness, I gave him ammonia to smell and continued working. When he saw his crippled arm dressed with a snow white bandage, a gleam of a smile flashed on his grey lips. Or at least it seemed that way, because at that moment everything swam before my eyes, I felt nauseous... When I regained consciousness, someone stuck a cigarette with makhorka (strong and cheap tobacco - trans.) between my lips, the latter was considered to be a most valuable thing, so that was an expression of the highest appreciation from my patients. And then back to dressings: head, stomach, scrotum -- what an inconvenient spot for bandages. Alexei and Sasha distributed food to the wounded, dismissing the orderly, who had been mercilessly stealing from them. It was snowing and raining outside, still newer columns of POW's kept arriving. A group of new arrivals ran to our shed, they started knocking demanding that we open the door and let them in. I knew that if even one of them started tearing off a board to get inside the barrack -- the shed would be destroyed, taken apart for firewood. After imagining this picture, I put on my bag with the red cross and came out, blocking the door with my body. The mob of tormented people roared threateningly, started pushing. Suddenly one of them jumped at me:

"Let me in!"

I kicked him in the stomach, he immediately collapsed and started crying. I felt bitter and ashamed. I looked over the faces blue from cold, watching me with their dark eye sockets, and said:

"The seriously wounded soldiers are here. There is no room even for us, medics. We bandaged the wounded, but if they are not protected now, they will all die."

The grey mass hesitated, but someone in the mob yelled:

"What are you listening to them bitches for?! Kill them bastards!"

In a second it flashed through my consciousness that the call to kill was plural, while I was standing alone against them -- it was terrible and unjust; it's as if they were justifying themselves with the plural, as if they wanted to tear to pieces and kill not just one medic defending the wounded -- killing me they would be killing some dark force that was killing them. And I started yelling. I couldn't show weakness. In that yell I rained down on them the power of accusation of cruelty to the wounded and crippled -- so they wouldn't have the justification.

The mob retreated. And I began to shake from what I had just gone through.

No one came to the barrack again, but we were on guard through the entire night.

On the third day my medicine supplies ran out, I felt sick from exhaustion, from moral suffering; it seemed that I was beginning to decompose like my wounded. I had the hidden jar of honey, with honeycomb and bees, which I kept for cases just like this, the one I had now. I decided to share the honey between the three of us, but the orderly came to us and proposed that we trade the honey for horse meat to the cooks. After negotiations through the barbed wire we agreed on the exchange with one cook, also a prisoner, he had had enough horse meat and wanted something tasty. We gave away the honey, and I was supposed to come at night when the horse meat would be ready, and take a back leg as a payment for the honey which the cook would have already eaten by that time. The cook -- a huge coal miner from the Donbass named Anton, with black eyebrows, he spoke a mixed Ukrainian-Russian language, so peculiar to the population of Ukraine's south -- said:

"Don't worry, I'll give you the leg if you just come. And don't get caught by the polizei at the gate."

I had to crawl under the barbed wire of the fence separating our shed from the kitchen yard, run through the yard unnoticed, and steal into the kitchen door before a polizei.

Anton said his pot was second from the hall's centre. And it was true, I found him.

"Well, see, you found me, even though you were afraid. And your honey was put to good use, I have a sick comrade, so he needs to drink tea with honey. Here, take your leg."

He pulled out a huge leg from the pot, it was steaming and it was impossible to get a hold on it immediately. I let it be shaken, put it under my armpit, covered myself with Tonia's red blanket that had saved me so many times. I sneaked to the exit, but I didn't even step over the threshold when the policeman called to me:

"What are you carrying?!" -- and grabbed the blanket.

Without thinking, I instinctively jerked and, straining every nerve, turned the corner of the kitchen. The polizei slipped, fell, tearing off a piece of the blanket, yelled: "Stop him! Stop him!.." One more push, I ran by the light, and Sasha was already waiting for me there, raising the barbed wire. A machine gun started firing along the fence, but I had already been pulled into the shed, we shut the door and propped it up with a stick. We could hear the polizei's tramping, swearing, they were so mad as if they themselves had been robbed, and it was difficult to even imagine what would've awaited us the next day on the parade-ground had I been caught.

http://www.iremember.ru/infantry/obrynba/ris2.jpg


An execution. Beating by the polizeis. April 1942
Drawing on the reverse side of a German poster.

......


Full Text (http://www.iremember.ru/infantry/obrynba/obrynba2.htm)

Of course Morphic doesn't seem to consider Ukainians, Russians and the like to be human, so in his eyes this kind of treatment is probably perefctly justified.

Originally posted by Prodigal Son
Of course Morphic doesn't seem to consider Ukainians, Russians and the like to be human, so in his eyes this kind of treatment is probably perefctly justified.

Dude... you just posted an entire Book.
Including pictures and captions.

Fade? Is that you?

LOL

-Æ (Sheesh)

Originally posted by Prodigal Son
Of course Morphic doesn't seem to consider Ukainians, Russians and the like to be human, so in his eyes this kind of treatment is probably perefctly justified.

Get a brain. You have no idea what I consider and you are too arrogant to ask.

Hey you two. Please resolve any personal Quarrels outside the boards. Take it to PMs. No personal Attacks allowed.

-Æ (Peace)

Originally posted by MorphicOutFielder


Get a brain. You have no idea what I consider and you are too arrogant to ask.


I draw most of my conclusions from your posts here and on e-l.

Interesting post. I think that there were atrocities on all sides during the war. I dont think that the Soviets or the Germans were any better than eachother in this respect.

Originally posted by MorphicOutFielder


Get a brain. You have no idea what I consider and you are too arrogant to ask.

I can easily prove that you don't consider Russians, Ukrainains, and Belorussians to be human through simple logic.

1. Anyone who has a rudimentary knowledge of WWII would know that German attrocities against Russian, Ukrainian, and especially Belarussian civilians were commonplace.

2. You seem to have a good grasp on WWII history, therefore you should know this.

3. You make this statement:

I think it fair to say that WWII German soldiers were as masculine as any soldiers have ever been. They were very well disciplined and did not pillage, plunder, and rape.



In it, you conveniently ignore the fact that the Germans murdered, pillaged and raped pretty much as they wished throughout the Ukraine, Belarus and European Russia.

4. Since you don't consider this fact worthy of mention, it is obvious that you don't consider the murder and rape of Russian, Ukrainian, and Belarussian civilians something anyone should even talk about.

5. If the murder and rape of members of a particular ethnic or racial grouping is not something you think important enough to consider, its obvious you don't consider them human.

P.S. I am not anti-German. However, I am against people who try to paint the Waffen SS off as misunderstood knights of chivalry.

Originally posted by Criminal
Interesting post.

THis comes from an excellent site:

http://www.iremember.ru/index_e.htm

it contains detailed memoirs and interviews of other Red Army WWII veterans as well.

I think that there were atrocities on all sides during the war. I dont think that the Soviets or the Germans were any better than eachother in this respect.

I think more Soviet citizens were killed, but I don't make a big deal about it. Its war. Atrocities are inevitable.

Originally posted by Prodigal Son

I think more Soviet citizens were killed, but I don't make a big deal about it. Its war. Atrocities are inevitable.
In many respects I believe that the soviets were their own worst enemies during the war. I believe that many of the soviet casualties were a direct or indirect result of Stalin's policies.

While there is no excuse for Hitlers murdering of so many Russians, I would point out that Soviet Union, unline every other nation in the war (except the Japanese) did not suscribe to the Geneva convention. The Soviets refused to gurantee humane treatment of its war prisoners so for that very reason the Germans made no such gurantees. This is why German treatment of Russian POWs was so bad.

I have my own belief when it comes to any war situation and its this: All armies are comprised of human beings. You will find in any army there are people. These people have families. Some are sons, fathers and husbands. Some are people with lives. They may be caring, loving and sensative people. You will find such people in the Red army and you would in the German army. What made the armies so inhumane was the war and what they were ordered to do. War brings out the absolute worst in human beings. This is why Japanese soldiers bayonetted live human beings. This is why the US air force dropped bombs on civilians. This is why merchant vessles were torpedoed in the North Atlantic and their crews were left to die in the icey water.

Originally posted by Criminal

In many respects I believe that the soviets were their own worst enemies during the war. I believe that many of the soviet casualties were a direct or indirect result of Stalin's policies.

Indeed. His purging of thousands of qualified Russian and Polish officers in order to put his Georgian cronies into power was suicidal for the Red Army. I doubt history has seen many leader of lesser intlelligence than Stalin.

While there is no excuse for Hitlers murdering of so many Russians, I would point out that Soviet Union, unline every other nation in the war (except the Japanese) did not suscribe to the Geneva convention. The Soviets refused to gurantee humane treatment of its war prisoners so for that very reason the Germans made no such gurantees. This is why German treatment of Russian POWs was so bad.

No, I think its more of an excuse for the German treatment of Soviet POWs. Most of it stemmed from the rabbid Hmmleresque anti-Slavic attitude that German soldiers had been indoctrinated with (Morphic is an excellent modern-day example of this, except his anti-Slavic views are more a result of ignorance than indoctrination).

I have my own belief when it comes to any war situation and its this: All armies are comprised of human beings. You will find in any army there are people. These people have families. Some are sons, fathers and husbands. Some are people with lives. They may be caring, loving and sensative people. You will find such people in the Red army and you would in the German army. What made the armies so inhumane was the war and what they were ordered to do. War brings out the absolute worst in human beings. This is why Japanese soldiers bayonetted live human beings. This is why the US air force dropped bombs on civilians. This is why merchant vessles were torpedoed in the North Atlantic and their crews were left to die in the icey water.

Certainly makes more sense than Morphic's "Slavs are not human" theory.

Originally posted by Prodigal Son


Certainly makes more sense than Morphic's "Slavs are not human" theory.
My ex wife is slavic (Czech to be exact) and I sometimes though that her people were something less than human. (Thats a joke by the way)

But yes I do see your point.

Silly me. I thought this thread was about how the Russian POWs "liberated" by the Soviets were sent to the Gulags in Siberia.

Originally posted by Chris
Silly me. I thought this thread was about how the Russian POWs "liberated" by the Soviets were sent to the Gulags in Siberia.
That is a story in itself. I do know that many POWs survived the horrors of German internment and were liberated by western armies and were forced to Russia to face yet another ordeal at the hands of the Stalinist butchers. Not something many Russians are willing to talk about. Probibly because few of those actually survived life in the Gulags.

In the late 60's early 70's I worked on construction with a plumber who had been held by the Germans. He told me, that all things considered,he had been treated pretty well. Of course, he was blond and soon learned to intentionally misspell his last name to appear German, not Swede. He told me many stories about WWII that doesn't fit with our television versions. He told me about how we treated Germans a lot worse than they treated us. I was always surpised by his stories. They were never like I saw WWII.

Then ther was the plumber who came back from Nam. I never actually saw Nam, just close enough to see the effects on our men. Violent! Little concern for life. Gruesome stuff some of our troops did.

What would have happened to the japanese in our camps if our infrastructure and food supply was totally destroyed by the japanese???

Originally posted by Prodigal Son




Certainly makes more sense than Morphic's "Slavs are not human" theory.

Where have you gotten this stupidity?? Geez. What is wrong with Slavs?

Here are you Russians. German troops were intelligent and well disciplined. Rape by German troops was rare and severly punished.

We are indebted to Dr. Austin J. App, a professor and scholar of English literature at Catholic University, the University of Scranton, and LaSalle College, among others, who risked career and livelihood to bring these truths to light. In April, 1946, when he published the work upon which this article is based, entitled Ravishing the Women of Conquered Europe....................

...................
On March 24, 1945, our "noble Soviet allies" entered Danzig. A 50-year-old Danzig teacher reported that her niece, 15, was raped seven times, and her other niece, 22, was raped fifteen times. A Soviet officer told a group of women to seek safety in the Cathedral. Once they were securely locked inside, the beasts of Bolshevism entered, and ringing the bells and playing the organ, "celebrated" a foul orgy through the night, raping all the women, some more than thirty times. A Catholic pastor in Danzig declared, "They violated even eight-year-old girls and shot boys who tried to shield their mothers."

The Most Reverend Bernard Griffin, British Archbishop, made a tour of Europe to study conditions there, and reported, "In Vienna alone they raped 100,000 women, not once but many times, including girls not yet in their teens, and aged women."

A Lutheran pastor in Germany, in a letter of August 7, 1945, to the Bishop of Chichester, England, describes how a fellow pastor's "two daughters and a grandchild (ten years of age) suffer from gonorrhea, [as a] result of rape" and how "Mrs. N. was killed when she resisted an attempt to rape her," while her daughter was "raped and deported, allegedly to Omsk, Siberia, for indoctrination."

The day after our noble Soviet allies conquered Neisse, Silesia, 182 Catholic nuns were raped. In the diocese of Kattowitz 66 pregnant nuns were counted. In one convent when the Mother Superior and her assistant tried to protect the younger nuns with outstretched arms, they were shot down. A priest reported in Nord Amerika magazine for November 1, 1945, that he knew "several villages where all the women, even the aged and girls as young as twelve, were violated daily for weeks by the Russians."

Sylvester Michelfelder, a Lutheran pastor, wrote in the Christian Century: "Bands of irresponsible bandits in Russian or American uniforms pillage and rob the trains. Women and girls are violated in sight of everyone. They are stripped of their clothes."

On April 27, 1946 Vatican Radio charged that in the Russian occupation zone of Eastern Germany cries of help are going up "from girls and women who are being brutally raped and whose bodily and spiritual health is completely shaken."

The rapists did not all wear a red star. John Dos Passos, writing in Life magazine for January 7, 1946, quotes a "red-faced major" as saying that "Lust, liquor and loot are the soldier's pay." A serviceman wrote to Time magazine for November 12, 1945 "Many a sane American family would recoil in horror if they knew how 'Our Boys' conduct themselves, with such complete callousness in human relationships over here." An army sergeant wrote "Our own Army and the British Army ... have done their share of looting and raping ... This offensive attitude among our troops is not at all general, but the percentage is large enough to have given our Army a pretty black name, and we too are considered an army of rapists." ..........................

................

Dr. George N. Shuster, president of Hunter College, wrote in the Catholic Digest of December 1945 after a visit to the American Zone of occupation, "You have said it all when you say that Europe is now a place where woman has lost her perennial fight for decency because the indecent alone live." By official policy, the Allies created conditions in which the only German mothers who could keep their young children alive were those who themselves or whose sisters became mistresses of the occupying troops. Our own officials admittedly brought the Germans down to a total daily food intake less than that of an American breakfast, a level which leads to slow but sure death unless relieved.

According to testimony given in the United States Senate on July 17, 1945, when the colonial French troops under Eisenhower's command, presumably mostly Africans, entered the German city of Stuttgart, they herded German women into the subways and raped some two thousand of them. In Stuttgart alone, troops under Eisenhower's command raped more women in one week than troops under German command raped in all of France for four entire years. In fact, of all the major belligerents in World War II, the German troops had by far the smallest record of rape and looting. The German army's incidence of rape in all of Germany's occupied territories was even lower than that of American troops stationed on American soil! .....................

Eisenhower......OUR president, the rape advocate.


http://netjunk.com/users/library/massrape.htm

Originally posted by MorphicOutFielder
Here are you Russians.

Earl, for the sake of accuracy, you must stop using the term "Russians" to refer to all Soviet soldiers. Russian is an ethnicity; Soviet is a nationality. Calling all Soviet citizens "Russians" is like calling all white Americans "English". Russians made up approximately 48% of the population of the Soviet Union in WWII. A large number (if not the majority) of the soldiers taking Berlin were freshly drwn-up divisions from Central Asia and the Caucassus. That having been said, I don't deny the fact that Russian soldiers raped thousands of German women during WWII. I don't try to excuse it either; it's war, Earl. Atrocities are inevitable in any war, whether the soldiers involved are Japanese, Chines, Americans Russians, or Germans. I don't make a big deal out of the slaighter of millions of Slavs by Germans in WWII for precisely the same reason; in a war of that magnitude, atrocities like these are to be expected.

German troops were intelligent and well disciplined. Rape by German troops was rare and severly punished.[/quote]

Only in Western Europe. The Nazis didn't consider Poles, Belarussian, Russian and Ukrainians fully human, so in their eyes the rape and murder of these people was fully justified.